


he had to

by whoopsydaisie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sam after the Cage, he's having a not good time my dudes, no one asked me but i’m not a huge fan of the first parts of s6 so :/, post cage au type thingy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 15:59:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19135360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoopsydaisie/pseuds/whoopsydaisie
Summary: He didn't come back quite right.





	he had to

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't canon compliant. i’m like really into supernatural right now idk but basically this is another sam came back from the cage and it's really sad au kind of thing. might be part of a collection. who knows?  
> not beta'd lol. i wrote this bad boy in like. one sitting so :/ i’m trying to practice writing realistic dialogue so hopefully this came out alright.

_He didn't come back quite right_.

This was Dean's thought as he stared down at the form of his younger brother.  Sam had crammed himself between Bobby's old, ratty couch and the wall, and he didn't look like he was going to feel like moving for a while.  

Sam had come back yesterday.  It was the dead of night when Bobby heard a harsh thump against his door.  He'd run out to see the huddled form of one Sam Winchester curled up against his doorway.  Sam didn't look at him, didn't acknowledge his presence in the slightest.  He just shivered and gripped his fingers one at a time, seeming to mumble something to himself every time he moved to a new finger.  Bobby had, of course, called Dean immediately and Dean had driven to Sioux Falls in record time.  By the time Dean arrived, Bobby had managed to wrangle Sam into his home and had even got him to hold a cup of apple cider with shaky hands.

Upon entering the house, Dean had tried to gain Sam's attention.  He completely disregarded Bobby in his rush to see his brother; Dean hadn't even spared Bobby a glance.  Dean just zeroed in on his lifelong mission and Bobby understood.  Dean had brushed Sam's hair back from his forehead and crouched down to try and look Sam in the eye.  Sam wouldn't make contact with him, so Dean tried to get his attention by pulling the cider gently from his clammy, trembling hands.  Sam whimpered.  He  _whimpered_  and maybe, just maybe, Dean thought that broke him even more than watching his brother make the big dive into the Cage.  Dean thought maybe he could get through to Sam if he just said the right words or maybe acted the right way or maybe if he even tried turning on some of that crappy music Sam seemed to like so much, so he grabbed his little brother's hands.  This, evidently, was the wrong move, because as soon as Dean put one rough, scarred hand onto the bigger ones clasped around each other, Sam freaked out.  Sam had let what could only be described as a high pitched grunt as he wrapped his hands in his hair and jumped up to find the nearest place to hide.  The nearest place was, evidently, between Bobby's old ratty couch and the wall.  

"Sammy, it's me.  It's Dean, remember?" Dean whispered as he crouched back down again and tried to prevent the tears that were threatening to fall.  "It's okay, Sam.  It's okay, you don't want to be touched?  You got it, I won't touch you.  It's okay, can you look at me, Sammy?  It won't," he took a shuddering breath and felt Bobby come up behind him, "it won't hurt nobody if you just show me your face.  Can't see behind all that hair, right?"

Sam didn't move.

"Bobby, how'd you even get him in here?" Dean asked, standing up.  

"I don't know, boy.  I just kinda pulled on him until he was inside.  He didn't freak out then."

"Oh, so it's just me?"  Dean replied while trying to keep the dread out of his voice.

"No, I don't think it's a you thing.  Honestly, if he was a little more lucid when he arrived at my door I don't think he would have come as easily.  As it is now, I had to drag him most of the way here.  You shoulda heard him - he kept mumbling and playing with his fingers.  I'm not even sure if he knew he was moving," Bobby sighed heavily and placed his hands behind his head.  They both stared at Sam in silence for a while.  Sam was shivering and messing with his hands again, but he was quiet otherwise.  

"He's cold, Bobby."

"Huh?"

"He's freezing, look at him.  Can you get a blanket?"

"Oh, yeah, sure.  One sec."

Dean waited for Bobby to leave the room before sitting down on the floor.  He stared at Sam for a few seconds before speaking.

"Hey, Sammy.  It's good to have you back.  Baby's missed you a lot.  I swear she purrs quieter when you're around.  She's my car, so it isn't really fair, but I think you're her favorite.  Can't imagine why.  You've got crappy music taste, these stupid long legs, and you never cut your hair," Dean said all this while gradually coming closer.  Sam's hands had stilled.  "Then again, you're my favorite, too, so I guess I get it.  Cas hasn't been to visit in a while.  I think he's mad at me about something, but I'm not sure what.  Probably because I stopped hunting.  I talked to Lisa again, just like you asked me to.  Aw, Sammy, you'd love Lisa.  She's really...I don't know how to describe it, but I guess she's just really nice?  And, of course, there's Ben.  I love that kid.  He asks a lot of questions and he's really smart, too.  He kinda reminds me of you, actually."

Dean had migrated to being directly in front of Sam.  Sam was still shivering, but he'd tilted his head like he was listening.  

"D'n?" Sam mumbled quietly, still not looking up.  

"Yeah, dude, it's me," Dean tried to contain his surprise and excitement.  "You okay?"

"It's really you?" Sam asked.  His lower lip was trembling and Dean felt his heart clench.

"Yeah, man.  You, you wanna look and see?  Just to be sure?"

Sam shook his head.  "I see you all the time.  Doesn't mean anything."

"Yeah, maybe, but I bet you've never seen me in a Batman t-shirt.  I doubt Lucifer would think to put me in one of these.  I doubt me one year ago would even think to put me in one of these. But, hey, this was the first shirt I found as I ran out the door - Lisa bought it for me a while back. I think she thought it would be funny. Graphic t’s were always more your thing."  Dean could see Sam begin to bite on his lower lip - the way Sam always does when he's trying not to cry.  Sam let out a shuddering breath and slowly lifted his head.  It wasn't much, in fact it could barely even be considered eye contact, but Sam managed to lift his head and scan Dean all the way up to his nose before shuddering and curling back in towards himself.  

"So," Dean began while trying to keep his demeanor calm and his heart from shattering, "is it me?"

Sam nodded lightly.  Dean smiled and sniffed while looking up at the doorway. Bobby had been waiting silently with a few blankets.  Some were newer, scratchier, and others had been warming the Winchester boys for years.  Dean gestured to Bobby and Bobby came forward with the blankets.  Dean's heart fell as Sam seemed to try to shrink even more into the wall the closer Bobby got.  Dean reached backwards and Bobby handed him a newer blanket.  He unfolded it and tried to gently drape it around Sam's shoulders, but Sam didn't react well.  He flinched and began pulling at his hair.  Dean yanked the blanket back and threw it to the side.  Bobby handed him a different blanket - an old, thin thing that Sam used on his bed when their Dad ditched them at Bobby's when they were kids.  Dean looked back at Bobby with curiosity, and the older man just shrugged.

"Maybe the familiarity will feel better?" Bobby suggested while leaving to go to the kitchen.

"Okay, Sam," Dean said while unfolding the old blanket.  "you wanna get a little warmer?  You look like you're freezing your tail off.  It okay if I touch you?"

Sam made a jerky motion that signaled his approval.  Dean quietly took a deep breath and leaned over Sam to wrap the blanket around his shoulders. 

"There, isn't that better?" 

"Y's," Sam answered in a watery voice.  Dean noticed one of Sam's legs had become suspiciously damp.  Sam was crying - he had been for what seemed to be a few minutes now.  Dean wondered absently exactly how far his heart could fall before it hit the bottom.  Dean slowly tried to push an arm between the wall and Sam's head - Sam shifted uneasily for Dean to fit.  Slowly, Sam scooted forward until Dean could sit side by side with him.  Gently, as gently as Dean had when he and Sam were kids and Sam was having a nightmare, Dean wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders and rubbed his thumb against Sam's arm.  Bobby eventually came back with a new cup of apple cider and shortly thereafter Sam leaned his head on Dean's arm.  Dean didn't move from the floor for two hours because Sam had fallen asleep like that and Dean had no clue when Sam had last gotten some sleep.  It was worth the aching shoulders and the legs that had long ago fallen asleep if Sam was able to rest.

Over the next couple months, Dean and Bobby learned more about Sam.  Sam didn't like the new, scratchy blankets.  He didn't like meat (Dean had mysteriously become a vegetarian whenever he ate inside the house).  He didn't like the smell of oil and he, for obvious reasons, didn't like fire.  He didn't like showers (the first time Dean had tried to get him to shower Sam had screamed and ripped the curtain from the wall.  Sam kept whispering, "please no" and "not again" and Dean never tried to make him shower again).  He didn't like the creaking of Bobby's old rocking chair that mysteriously ended up in the dumpster and he didn't like the slamming noise of the screen door.  There were a lot of other things Sam didn't like that went hand in hand with his nervous habits like repeating words, gripping his own hands, pulling his hair, and sometimes even going so far as to hitting himself.  Dean learned to work around this. He  _had_  to.

He had to, because there were things Sam liked, too.  Sam liked Lisa (Dean thinks he liked Ben, even if he seemed uneasy around the energetic kid).  Sam liked the tomato plant in the front yard that Bobby had left him in charge of.  He liked the old, soft, thin blankets he and Dean used.  He liked coffee and apple cider, and even if he personally lost the appetite for it, he liked drinking these on the porch while Dean sipped at a beer.  He, much to Dean's surprise, liked action films.  Most of all, if you warned him it was coming, Sam loved hugs.  He just  _really_  loved them.  He'd hug anyone (including, Castiel who had taken a while, but eventually grown accustomed to it) for any reason at any time.  Dean thought it was a reassurance or touch starvation thing, and while it may have been, he realized he didn't mind it at all.  He had Sam and he was fine with working around these new challenges as long as he had his brother back.


End file.
